


What might've been

by Bisexualsnafu



Category: Band of Brothers
Genre: Angst, Canon Compliant, M/M, Minor Character Death, PTSD, Post-War, Unrequited Love, gene just has a lot on his mind, honestly idk, kind of, roe-centric, very subtle though
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-12-12
Updated: 2016-12-12
Packaged: 2018-09-08 00:37:46
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,038
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8822749
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Bisexualsnafu/pseuds/Bisexualsnafu
Summary: Gene visits Julian's grave, and bumps into an old friend.





	

Eugene doesn't know why he's here.

He doesn't know what compelled him to come to Julian's grave in late December, to come stand in front of a dead boy he once couldn't save.  
Maybe it's the nightmares, the ones he can't seem to shake no matter how hard he tries.  
Maybe it's the fact that he's alone, there's no one that he can talk to about how how he feels empty.

He started getting the nightmares when it got colder, just like last year, and the year before that.

It's kind of fitting.  
It's fitting, how all he ever dreams of is Bastogne, the biting cold, bloody hands, and horrifying screams of dying men. Over and over and over.

He doesn't know how he ended up kneeling in front of Julian's headstone. A tear down his cheek, hands clasped in front of him, head bowed as snow settled around him.  
Julian could've been saved. Instead, he died bleeding out on enemy soil, as Gene watched helplessly. 'There was too much artillery fire to get to Julian's body safely', is what everyone said. Gene knew he could've done it, even if it meant risking his life. It was his job.

He shivered, bitter cold seeping through his jacket and into his bones.  
He shouldn't be cold. Not after the hell he faced in Bastogne. It felt wrong, disrespectful even.

He could see someone, a man, walking through the cemetery gates, clutching flowers in his bare hands. The man walks closer, and Roe breathes in sharply. He ignores the way it burns his lungs and makes his throat feel frozen over, just like every pained breath in Bastogne. 

He'd recognize that face anywhere.  
He'd recognize Babe anywhere.

(Something happened to Gene, during the war. Whenever he saw Babe, he'd get a feeling in his chest, as if some animal was trying to crawl its way out.  
It was only until after the war ended that he realized he cared too much about Babe.  
Maybe it was because everywhere he went, he'd see Babe and his goddamn smile. Hell, he'd even dreamt about him. Gene swore he heard someone with a Philly accent shout his name more than once, but he knew it wasn't true. After that, he repressed his feelings and tried to forget about Babe entirely.)

It worked for a while, was even considered easy given the distraction of war. But now he can see Babe's shadow above his hunched shoulders, and he's wrecked.

"Gene?"  
(And just like that, Gene is back in Bastogne, sitting next to Babe as he bandages his hand, trying not to concentrate on the death and destruction around them.)  
Except now, there's no German artillery to be cautious of, and the only thing around them is falling snow.

“Gene, hey, you okay?” And Babe is kneeling next to him, their legs touching. Roe can feel Babe’s body heat radiating from under his jacket, and he wants in a way he’s never felt.

 

“I- yeah I’m alright,” he manages, wiping away a stray tear with his frozen hand, “What brings you here Heffron?” 

 

“It’s the anniversary of when he, you know-” He gestures to the grave, setting the flowers down in front of it, “I just wanted to drop these off.”  
Eugene doesn’t want him to ask why he’s here, and Gene must understand that because he keeps quiet. They sit in indefinite silence, each waiting for the other to say something, anything.  
“Babe, I-” Gene stutters, breathing in sharply to get his voice under control. There are so many thoughts occupying his mind, so many things he wants to say, things he might never get to say.  
I need you, I love you-  
“It’s nice to see you.”  
He hopes it’s enough, but Babe had always been able to see through him. He stares intently at Julian’s grave, feeling Babe stare at him. Shit. Babe always knew when something was wrong.  
“Gene, look at me,” Babe grabs his arm, and Roe hates that he turns to face him, “What’s wrong?”  
That’s all it takes for Roe to come crashing down. He doesn’t respond, tears in the corner of his eyes, a sob buried in his throat. He grasps on to Babe’s coat as if it’s his lifeline, and buries his face in Babe’s neck. His body shudders with sobs, and Babe wraps his arms around him.  
“I just... want to feel something,” he finally gets out minutes later, “other than this empty guilt.” He swallows thickly, trying to abolish the tears from his eyes. “I couldn’t save him, Babe, I didn’t save him.”  
Gene doesn’t have to ask who he’s talking about.  
They stay like that for what seems like hours, hunched over in the snow, letting the cold seep into their bones, a semblance of the cold they experienced in the foxholes of Bastogne.  
He gets his tears under control, letting go of Babe to wipe at his face. He smiles weakly, “I’m sorry you had to see that.”  
Gene is still staring at him, concern etched in every line of his face. Roe wishes he could make it stop. He doesn’t want to be pitied.  
“Gene, don’t apologize,” Babe wipes a stray tear from Gene’s face, and he instantly feels warm from where his hand was. “It’s hard on everybody.”  
Gene nods absentmindedly in agreement, standing up, stretching his hand out to help Babe up.  
“We should probably be going now,” Gene mutters out, looking down at his shoes, hyper aware of Babe’s freezing hand in his, “It’s getting dark.”  
They walk together towards their cars in silence, hands intertwined in Babe’s coat pocket. Gene hates that he never wants to let go of Babe. His hand is the only thing anchoring Gene to the ground; without it, he’d be long gone.  
He can barely think when Babe is writing out his phone number on the back of a receipt, telling him to ‘call if he needs anything’. He can barely breathe when Babe squeezes his hand with finality, gets in his car, and drives away.

  

Gene watches him go, the receipt crumpled in his hand. As Babe’s tail lights disappear, so does the warm feeling occupying Gene’s chest. He never calls.

**Author's Note:**

> I found this in my docs from around a year ago, so i decided why not post it?  
> This hasn't been checked for errors so i'm sorry if there are any.


End file.
